


Home at Last

by kaclydid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is Thranduil's lost queen. You return to the Wood you once called home and confront your husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You looked over the river and the bridge which led straight to the large main doors of the hidden palace. Leaning against the tree you were sitting under, you reminisced about the time before you had left with the soldiers; before you had almost died. Before Gundabad.

The large doors opened and a tall elf strode out. His long, silver blond hair held back out of his face with a crown made of the summer flowers found around you. He was followed by a small child, same blond hair with a tiny green and silver leaf pin tying it back. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the two of them. It had been so long since you had seen your husband and son, and here they were, striding across the bridge, heading into the woods for a day of fun.

You followed their trek to a small clearing and noticed Legolas was carrying a small, child-sized bow and arrow. Thranduil knelt down beside him and adjusted the child's grip on the toy weapon. The child let the first arrow go and it flew through the air in an ark before landing in the grass only a few feet away. Thranduil chuckled as he pulled out another small arrow from the quiver he had been carrying, showing his son how to pull it back once more. They stayed in the clearing for a long while, until the sun was high in the sky and Legolas was beginning to tire.

“Come, little leaf,” Thranduil's cool voice carried over the clearing and warmed your heart as you heard them. They left the clearing to head back to the palace, but you did not follow.

You sat there, in the middle of the clearing, where Thranduil had been sitting mere moments before, and let the tears fall. It had been almost half a decade since you had been presumed dead. And the thought of Thranduil going through that such pain almost broke your heart. The only way you survived was by keeping the love you had for the King alive.

By the time the sun was beginning its descent, you stood, and followed the trail back to the river. With a deep breath and one last sniffle, you stepped onto the bridge, pulling your worn out hood over your head.

“Halt!” One of the guards stopped you as you reached the doors. “State your name and business here,” he said.

“My name is Lona,” you lied. “I wish to speak to King Thranduil on behalf of Lord Elrond of Rivendell.”

The guard looked you over. You did not look either like a soldier or a messenger of the Rivendell Elves. Your clothes were worn and tattered from your journey.

The old cloak you wore was frayed and muddy from dragging behind you in the rains. You carried a bow on your back and a quiver of arrows at your hip. You looked more like a nomad or scout than anything else.

The guard's eyes narrowed on you. “The King is not accepting visitors,” he said simply.

“It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him,” you pleaded. Your [E/C] eyes flicked from one guard to the other, hoping that the added hood would mask your true identity from them.

The guards finally conceded, and opened the doors of the palace. If you hadn't needed them to cooperate, you would assume they'd be demerited for allowing just anyone entrance. You were finally home, and yet, you were still hiding. The walk to the throne room was one you had memorized years before, and every step you took, your smile grew brighter.

“My Lord,” the guard, whose name you remembered as being Oronir, stepped into the Great Hall where Thranduil's throne sat.

The King's eyes bored into the guard from his spot on his throne. “What is it?” he asked coldly.

A chill ran down your spine. You had to peek through the crack in the door to make sure it was Thranduil speaking. His voice was different from what you had heard in the clearing with your son. His voice was colder now, piercing to the bone as it echoed around you.

“You have a visitor my Lord,” Oronir continued with a short bow. “F-from Rivendell.”

“I have no meetings scheduled,” was all the King responded with.

“She said it was of much importance,” Oronir tried.

Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes as he brought his hand to rub at his temple. “Show them in,” he said.

Your heart filled with hope again as the doors were opened and you were let inside. The large room was darker than you remembered. The few lamps that lined the hall were dimmer, making the entire scene come together. Thranduil had changed after you had gone missing, and as you looked around, you knew it wasn't in a good way. He had become darker, just as the forest had.

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, and your husband, was perched on his throne, one arm resting on the side of the chair, left leg crossed over his right knee. His robes flowed off of him, pulling at the base of his seat around his feet. His blue eyes were cold and peircing just as his voice had been.  
“Well,” he started, annoyance tinting his voice as you took in his sight. “Speak.”

“M-my Lord,” you started, fumbling over the words although you didn't know why. “I have word from Lord Elrond of --”

Thranduil cut you off there. “You are neither soldier nor messenger. I will have you know trespassing for the only reason to lay eyes upon the king will result in a quick walk down to the dungeons, where you can wait out your sentence.”

That stung.

You glared up at him, lifting your head up. The movement caused the hood to fall back, revealing the golden curls of your hair. You saw the King freeze as he looked down at you, hand in mid air as he was about to wave you away.

“If this is a joke, I do not find it funny,” he spat, dropping his arm back to the armrest of his throne.

“It is not a joke,” you tried, taking a short step forward, looking up at him. “I only wish to return home. Can you not see that? I have come home.”

At your words he started to relax, shoulders slumping and chin coming down as his looked upon you. He had felt almost nothing since you had left, and it had been hard, but for the sake of everything it wasn't going to end in a death by broken heart. Now that you were standing in front of him, safe and as you were the last he laid eyes on you, emotion started to return to his eyes.

Slowly, he stood, and you took an involuntary step back as he descended the stairs, unsure of what to expect. Elrond had told you he had become harsher since your supposed demise, but you hadn't expected it to be as bad as you had just seen it. He stopped in front of you, looking down into your eyes and slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.

You smiled back and nodded, assuring him once again that you were real and that you were never going to leave. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head in a movement so fast, his robes spun around you, bringing you into the comfort of his embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

You stood overlooking your sleeping son. You weren’t ready for him to see you yet, you were still afraid of the way the elfling would react, but you had to see him. Legolas looked only four, maybe five years old to a human, so young and lively, moonlight reflecting off his blond hair. He lay in the small bed, one hand up by his head while his other arm held what looked to be a handmade stuffed elk toy close to his chest.

“Are you alright?” Thranduil’s voice came from behind you as he entered the room. He wore different robes than earlier, robes which made him look more relaxed, and his head was clear of his crown.

“Yes,” you answered, turning back to look down at your sleeping child. “He’s grown so much,” you added, making yourself turn back to your King.

“Everyday, when I looked at him, I thought of you,” Thranduil murmured, looking past you at the young Prince. “He will be glad you are home. I have told him stories of his brave mother.”

You smiled, eyes brightening. “Surely, they were overly exaggerated,” you started. “You always embellished your stories.”

Thranduil smiled, stepping beside you as you started for the door, following in your footsteps. “Only when the story called for it, I assure you,” he nodded, closing the doors behind the two of you. “Come, you must be uncomfortable. I will see you once you are settled,” he said, starting down the hall, motioning with a nod to the other end. “We have much to talk about.”

His cool voice had become deeper, as if he were upset, as he said the last sentence, and you felt your stomach twist. The evening had passed well enough. After leaving the throne room, hood of your cloak pulled tight over your head, Thranduil had walked you down to his private gardens, where the two of you sat, talking mostly of Mirkwood, laughing and joking as if you hadn’t been gone for the past decade.

You nodded and turned around as he rounded the corner out of sight. Taking a step, your feet pulled you in the direction of the quarters you hadn’t stepped foot in in far too long. The large carved, wooden doors stood before you in almost seconds, and you caught yourself staring at the vine-like carvings on the wood.

Once you had washed the dirt and grime out of your hair, you pulled a dressing gown over your shoulders, leaving the heavy, dirty garments you had been wearing in a heap on the floor. You walked into the bedroom, and looked around.

There was nothing of yours in the room, at least nothing visible. Opening the wardrobe, where once hung the beautifully crafted gowns of yours, you found Thranduil’s vast collection of robes ranging in styles and colors.

Of course, you thought. He wouldn’t keep your things out if he thought you were never coming back. You pursed your lips in thought as you closed the wardrobe, looking around the room for other hiding spots as you turned, crossing your arms across your chest.

Yes, you were home, in your old chambers, but right now, everything seemed foreign.

You spent the next twenty minutes searching alcoves and cupboards for anything that could replace the dressing gown draped over your shoulders. You had finally given up hope and had sat down when the doors behind you opened, admitting your husband.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, noting the package he carried, before smiling. “You left me with nothing to wear,” you said, motioning to his dressing gown you still wore. “May I ask where my belongings are?”

He smirked as he set the package on the table in front of you, adjusting the rather long sleeves of his robe so they didn’t roll over his hands. “I had them packed away after I heard word of your ...” he started, not meeting your gaze as he untied the package, letting his words fade off. “I will have them brought back here for you in the morning. Until then, I have gotten you this,” he said, and pulled the lid off the box.

The gown was simple, and yet beautiful. The dark grey fabric matched the robes Thranduil wore at this moment, and the silver fastenings and embroidery caught the moonlight as it drifted in through the open window. You didn’t know where he had come by it, seeing as you had only been home for half a day, but you didn’t question it.

“Thank you,” you nodded as you stood, stepping to his side. “It’s lovely.”

* * *

 

The morning came with no hiccups in your plan. Thranduil had agreed to announce your return in front of the kingdom, giving you time to rest and refresh your mind to the life inside the cavernous Woodland palace. Well, no hiccups that would reveal your presence to any of the guards or servants.

Young Legolas woke early, running straight to his father’s chambers, where, every morning while you had been gone, he would sit in the garden with his father and watch the birds before heading off to breakfast.

The doors opened just far enough for the elfling to squeeze through. His hair was wavy from the night’s sleep, the small braids frayed, yet still in tact. He carried with him his stuffed elk, and the small silver clip that had fallen out of his hair while he slept. When the door closed behind him, and he noticed his father standing with the unfamiliar woman, the child stopped in his tracks and looked up, blue eyes wide.

“Ada?” he asked quietly.

“Come on, in Little Leaf,” Thranduil said with a nod. “There is someone you must meet.”

Legolas ran up to his father, who lifted him with ease, perching him on his hip. Legolas strained to look over his shoulder at you, scrutinizing your image, taking in your features. “Good morning,” he said after a moment, a large smiel forming on his small lips.

You smiled back and nodded. “Good morning, Little Leaf,” you said. “You don’t remember me, do you?” you asked.

“Of course I do!” Legolas smiled, looking up to Thranduil. “She’s the one from your stories, right, Ada?”

Thranduil smiled. “This is your mother. She has returned to us, safe and sound,” he answered, looking back down to you.

“Nana?” Legolas asked and then pushed out of his father’s arm, hoping you would catch him, which you did.

You opened your arms and LEgolas transitioned from his father’s familiar hold to yours. “It has been far too long,” you murmured as Legolas played with a strand of your hair.

“Where were you?” Legolas asked quietly.

“Didn’t your father tell you all those stories?” you asked with a chuckle, which made Legolas look up to you. “I’ve been out fighting those ugly creatures called Orcs!” you started, voice playful as a smile grew on your son’s face once more. “I will tell you about it one day,” you added. “The day your mother fought with all her might just to see you again!”

“Story time!” Legolas cried with a smile.

“Not right now, little one,” Thranduil said. Although he enjoyed watching you and your son, he had duties to attend to today, and unfortunately, story time wasn’t one of them. “You must eat.”

Legolas ran back to the door, stopping as he tried to reach the ornate knob, and turned back, running back to you, squeezing you around the legs. Face buried in your skirts, he murmured, “I love you Nana”.

You felt the tears sting at your eyes once more as you looked up to Thranduil. He nodded and took Legolas’s hand, walking him out of the room, telling him he mustn’t tell any of the servants that you were here just yet.

As Thranduil walked back into the room, you stepped up to him, wiping a tear away from your cheek as you looked up to him. “Do not ever let me leave this Wood again,” you whispered. “And if I do, never for this long.”

Thranduil nodded, folding his hands in front of him as he met your gaze. “Yes, my Queen,” he replied.

Relaxing, you looked to the door, letting the tears roll freely down your cheek before throwing your arms around Thranduil’s shoulders, bringing your body close to his. With one quick movement, you pressed your lips to Thranduil’s cheek, something you hadn’t done in the half a day you’d been home, and smiled when he lowered his head, meeting your lips with his as you started to pull away.


End file.
